The Courtship of Kikyou
by Seifergrrl
Summary: Inu-Yasha and Kikyou, before the betrayal, before death. How did they love? Why? What brought them together, before they were torn apart? A story of seasons and changes. Chapter 3 uploaded!
1. Spring

This story is pretty much spoiler free, because we all know what happens to Kikyou and Inu-Yasha, if you've gotten past the first few episodes. ^n.-^ However, while I own this story and the ideas contained within, the lady miko and the dogboy certainly belong to someone else. Blah blah blah, disclaimer, don't sue me.

This is the first chapter in the cycle of seasons that cover 18 months of awkwardness, humanity, love, fear, and more. This is not a story for those who insist that Kikyou is a whore, and hate her. This is the miko as she is, not as the fans perceive her in their jealous fits. If you _hate Kikyou… read the story anyway and maybe you'll change your mind. If you __love Kikyou, then this story is for you, who acknowledge that she's a miko, a woman – but not truly a monster._

**The Courtship of Kikyou**

**A tale of the Love That Was**

**_Amanda Lever_**

**Chapter 1: Spring**

Inu-Yasha had not been this close to the village before. In the last few months, he'd edged close, certainly, to the shrine on the hill, but he had never ventured near the small buildings that existed in its shadow. They had never held anything for him before. No fascination, no longing, no promises of anything except rejection, degradation and humiliation. 

But this time, it held a promise of a glimpse of the priestess. Beauty had soothed the savage hanyou; her eyes were his undoing. Her somber, brown eyes had unabashedly revealed her sorrow to the wild hanyou. He cursed her then, but in the days after, he was stuck by the look in her eyes. They haunted him to the point where he did not eat or sleep without wondering if there was a way to remove the sadness from her gaze.

So here he was, drawn by the thought he might again catch her glance, to see if the sincere sadness lingered with her still. Was she that sad all the time? If she was happy with her humans, then he would not worry about the sadness in her eyes, and he would continue to seek the shikon.

If she was still sad, he did not know what he might do.

He told himself it was a weakness he could not afford. No true youkai would care about the state of a woman's heart and he should emulate the power of will that a real youkai would have. A true youkai had no human blood, and therefore no human heart to worry over. 

The miko's sadness was her weakness, her desire for empathy a chink in her armor. He could surely exploit if he was clever enough, but he found the idea of earning her trust and breaking her heart repulsive. He couldn't play such a game with her heart, not this warm day.

The spring had brought warm breezes and blossoms on the trees. The pollen made his nose itch, but there was little place for him to sit and expect to catch a glance of the priestess other than in one of the border trees. Stifling a sneeze, he let his gaze roam over the people that came too and fro.

They sang planting songs, banged on drums to keep a rhythm. Never before had he bothered to watch the age-old ritual of the rice paddy; the thrum of darting dragonfly's wings accompanying the slosh and splash of rhythmic steps. The villages turned the simple act of planting into a dance, adding ceremony to the most common, but life-sustaining routine they had: the care and upkeep of the rice crop.

He watched the women, their kimono tied about their broad thighs, with little more than disinterest, till he caught a flash of white from the corner of his eyes. She was there.

"Kikyou." Her name came out in a rush of breath he only just realized he'd been holding. 

She came down the path, her red hakama hiding the motion of her step, creating the effect of a graceful glide rather then a walk. He leaned forward, ears cocked toward the scene, wishing the drums would stop, just for a few minutes.

They did not relent. The ceremony of planting continued and he was left straining to hear anything she might say. She spoke with the village head-man, and he smiled and nodded. Inu-Yasha could imagine their conversation about rice, good omens, blessings for the village, hoping for a good year of a healthy rice crop and strong sons for the women.

But he couldn't hear anything as far away as he was! 

A low growl escaped his throat and he swung down from the branches of his trees, dropping into the brush. He moved forward, just a little, and crouched in the shadows. 

The drum still thundered away the words he wanted to hear.

He crept closer still.

She turned and glanced in his direction. 

He froze.

Her eyes pierced the shadows, stripping away his hiding place. She saw him, he was sure of it. Her serious expression did not abate. Would she be angry? he wondered abruptly, holding still under the weight of her gaze. He should bolt, he told himself. She's down here, he could make it to the shrine and plunder the shikon no tama while it was unguarded…

Her expression eased into that sad smile she'd worn in the field with him, and all thoughts of theft fluttered away with a contraction of his heart. Why must she smile so sadly?

She turned back to the village headman, the expression washing away as if it'd never taken her face. The headman seemed not to notice that she'd looked away, and Inu-Yasha made good his reprieve from her eyes. He took back to the trees some distance, losing sight of the priestess and the villagers under her care.

When he glanced again to the village, he could not see her. His expression fell, but he simply turned away. He decided the best thing to do was to find some tubers to dig up for breakfast, and consider hunting some wild birds for lunch.

He had only begun to dirty his claws when he heard a noise, a snap, behind him. His ears cocked back before he glanced over his shoulder, and caught a glimpse of red and white. 

Kikyou emerged from the shadows of the trees, her dark eyes seeking the hanyou's gaze without fear. Her smile was again in place; pierced by her eyes he idly wondered if she smiled like that only for him.

"Inu-Yasha," she said, his name rousing him from his thoughts. "I've never seen you so close to the village before."

He blinked his eyes, and then snorted softly, shifting. He wouldn't give his enemy his back, asking for an arrow in it, but he would continue to dig for his breakfast. He found the roots he'd been digging up, and continued to work the earth around them.

"Keh," he said, as he worked. "I just came because I heard all the noise."

"Have you never seen a village do it's planting, Inu-Yasha?" she asked, gaze gentle.

"Not in many years," he admitted. But it was a small thing, he decided, as he wrenched his prize from the earth, and worked to dig up another.

She allowed him to finish his work, before she said, "Shall I accompany you to the lake, Inu-Yasha?"

He looked down at the dirty roots, wondering if eating them as they were would repulse her and wipe that smile from her face. His disgust at the idea of the earth-caked root in his mouth was enough to keep him from finding out.

"If you like. I care not what you do." He rose from his crouch and took his breakfast in hand, moving off through the trees. 

She followed. His ears caught the whisper of her hakama, but he said nothing to her.

The green, spring grass was only to their shins now; soon he was sure it would grow up to their chests; perfect for hiding hanyou in the summer. He crossed the field, the rocky outcroppings, and the short grass on the other side to reach the lake.

He sat down without a word, flipping back his long sleeves before he took the first root and dunked it in the waters, rubbing vigorously to get the earth free of its skin. His claws picked at a stubborn pebble, and he flicked it away with a soft snort.

When he finished with the first, he glanced back; Kikyou sat in the grass not far behind him, her hands folded in her lap. He snorted again, before repeating the wash with the second tuber.

Once clean, he moved back to the grass, sitting down a few feet to the woman's left, his eyes flicking to her, wary. Was she going to try and take his food? Was she waiting for something? He couldn't be sure. He bit into the tuber, not minding that it was raw.

"When was the last time you had a cooked meal, Inu-Yasha?" Kikyou asked.

"I cook my meat," Inu-Yasha snapped defensively. 

"Ahso," Kikyou said with a slight smile. "I didn't mean it that way, Inu-Yasha. I'm just wondering when you last had a full, cooked meal. Rice, vegetables, meat." 

Inu-Yasha chewed on the rubbery tuber in his mouth, and considered. "I traveled with my brother, for a while. He always provided, when I was younger."

"A brother?" Kikyou's brow arched, and she asked, "Is he hanyou as well?"

"Hah!" Inu-Yasha swallowed down the mouthful of food, before he shook his head. "No! 

He's my half-brother. My father's first son, and heir to the Western Lands. His blood isn't tainted."

"So your father was youkai, Inu-Yasha? And your mother was human?" Her gaze became critical, and she asked, "What happened between them?"

"How should I know?" he asked with a snort. "He was dead before I even knew his face."

"They were lovers, then?" She almost sounded relieved. 

"Yeah. So?"

She smiled, and did not elaborate at first. He continued his meal with a shrug.

"What was your mother like, Inu-Yasha?" Kikyou asked, once the first tuber was completely gone.

"Human."

"I know that," she prompted. "Do you remember her at all?"

"She's been dead eight years. I remember that she was always crying." His eyes darted toward Kikyou, and a new idea bubbled to the surface.

"You remind me of her, actually," his voice twisting into something ugly, "She was always sad – must be why I can't stand your sad face!" 

Kikyou blinked at the vehemence with which he spoke, and then looked away as he rose. 

"I see," she murmured softly, but did not rise to his bait. Where was the hate? The return insult? 

Why did this human simply take the barbs he flung and not respond?

He stared at her a moment longer, before he snorted again and took a large bite from the tuber. He still would not give her his back. He'd force her away before he did that.

"Why are you still here?" 

"I'm trying to see if I could understand why your mother would be sad. Perhaps at the loss at your father? Or perhaps," Kikyou's voice dropped to a whisper, "Or perhaps she was afraid her son would grow to hate her for the gift of her weak, human blood."

Inu-Yasha was struck mute by Kikyou's words; he was still and quiet at the thought—his mother, afraid he would hate her? But he didn't! He didn't hate her! He'd known why she cried… why she cried every time he asked his questions and did not understand...

"She cried because I was small and I didn't understand why everyone hated me," he stated flatly, "when she loved me so much."

Kikyou's gaze settled against on his face, and he would not look up at her. But her smile had returned, yet he could not look up into it.

"I am glad, then, that I remind you of someone that loved you, Inu-Yasha." 

His frown was still firmly in place, and he didn't want to look up. But something ate at the back of his mind; perhaps the tone of her voice, or the way she'd said her words, so he chanced a glance in her direction.

There was no sadness on her face. 

He turned more fully to look at her, his eyes widening. "Kikyou…" his voice held a note of wonder, and for a moment, just a moment, the walls dropped between them in the stillness.

She broke the moment with a motion of her hand–reaching out to brush her fingers atop his, before she moved away with such fluid grace that he almost didn't register what had happened. 

"Enjoy your breakfast, Inu-Yasha," Kikyou said, before turning from him. She walked away without fear, her sadness abated just for a moment.

Inu-Yasha did not follow; he instead held his hands close to his chest once she was gone, wondering how a simple brush of her fingers could make him tremble like a leaf in a storm.


	2. Summer

_Yeah, it took me long enough! However, here's the next chapter! Thank you, those who have read and reviewed! Makes me glad to see that people are giving this piece a chance. (No pun intended…)_

**The Courtship of Kikyou**

**Chapter 2: Summer**

Between the muggy heat and the hot summer rain, Inu-Yasha was fairly sure this was the worst summer ever. The clouds blotted out the sun, but the rain did not give one a cool shower; even when the sun was blocked, rain fell in hot, thick sheets from the clouds, providing no relief for the homeless hanyou

Inu-Yasha stood waist-deep in cool water, finding it helped abate the heat's affects. He had stripped down to his fundoshi to allow his sodden clothing to dry after the last rain storm. This was pointless, perhaps, as clouds again loomed on the horizon, but at least the cool water felt good compared to the heat, and his fire-rat clothing would dry quickly.

And it served another purpose: while his clothes dried, he could fish for his dinner.

Inu-Yasha was like any other predator; standing still like the crane, watching the water. His breathing was so steady, so even, it moved with the wind rushing against the water, making it lap against his bare belly in time with the rise and fall of his chest.

And then, much like the white crane, he struck!

A clawed hand darted out and he felt a scaled body slide against his palm -- where a mortal man would have lost the fish, Inu-Yasha had extra grip; his claws, turned with their points toward his palm, became a deadly trap for the poor fish that would become his supper.

It wriggled in his hand, thick tail batting against his wrist, but he held it aloft triumphantly. So what if 'mighty barehanded fisherman' wasn't as impressive a title as Sesshoumaru's 'Lord of the Western Lands'; it kept food in his belly, where Sesshoumaru could hardly eat a lordship.

He tossed the fish to the others on the bank; they were small and it would take one or two more to satiate his hunger.

Once two more fish were caught in the same manner -- waiting eyes, darting hands, splashing water, triumphant hanyou -- he began to slosh back to the bank, eager to dry off and not feel the mud under his toe claws. 

However, he hadn't expected to see the woman on the banks.

He stopped there, up to his thighs in water, soaked and holding a fish in one hand.

Kikyou, on the other hand, was dry and impeccable as always, a broad bamboo hat covering her head, held steady by one hand. 

"Inu-Yasha," she greeted gently, her eyes finding his before demurely turning away. 

"Kikyou," he answered with far less confidence then he had felt seconds ago, tossing fish to the bank. 

For a moment, he didn't under stand why she wouldn't look at him; her gaze shyly averted. But as he felt his soaked fundoshi chill him slightly in the air, he realized she was probably uncomfortable with his near nakedness. He didn't understand why; all men, even half-demons, were built the same, weren't they?

He continued to plow through the water, heedless of the truth of her discomfort, and then to where his clothes were on the bank. He ducked behind the rock to change his clothing, the wet fundoshi discarded to dry where it couldn't be seen.

Her voice echoed over the rocks, gentle as always. "I see you have kept yourself busy, Inu-Yasha."

"Gotta eat," he replied with a snort as he finished dressing, before scrambling up onto one of the rocks to take a seat. "I didn't expect you to come out with a storm so close."

"But that's why I'm here," she said. "We are not so near the coast that we must greatly fear typhoon, but still, the rainy season is fierce this year."

She was coming to something he wouldn't like, he was sure of it.

"I was wondering if you might come to the temple while till the storming passes."

That was not what he expected. He was so stunned he nearly slid from his seat, only catching himself leaning to far forward at the last moment. 

Finally, he found words. 

"Did you just ask me to come and stay at the temple?" he couldn't manage to find the proper level of shock to convey.

"Yes," she said simply.

He stared at her with open bafflement; his eyes wide, his mouth agape, his ears cocked forward.

"…Why?"

"Because you would be safer there. It would only be you, my sister, and I."

For a moment, his mind completely skipped 'my sister' and thought he was being asked for something entirely different! His cheeks burned as he replayed the request in his mind, but then he remembered:

"Your _sister?"_

Kikyou nodded serenely, apparently not put off by his bewildered reactions.

"You have a sister?" he asked, hopping down from his perch to sit in the grass, crouching at her feet.

"Yes," Kikyou replied as she kneeled down beside him. "My only blood relative, Kaede. She and I were given to the temple to be raised as _miko when we were young."_

"Hmph." Inu-Yasha tried to imagine what a sister of Kikyou must be like, but he couldn't fathom it. He was nothing like Sesshoumaru, his elder brother, so why would this girl-child be anything like Kikyou? And what about Kikyou, anyway? What sort of sister was she?

"Are you good to your sister?" he asked.

Kikyou's dark eyes flickered to his and she asked, "'Good to my sister'? What do you mean?"

Inu-Yasha flushed again, this time with guilt. He'd gone and compared Kikyou to Sesshoumaru in his heart! How could he have compared the kind, lovely miko to the cold-hearted youkai?

…When had she become _kind and lovely?!_

Kikyou was still staring at him, confused as he looked everywhere but at her, shifting this way and that. When it became clear that Inu-Yasha was not going to answer her, she reached out to touch his cheek, garnering an instant reaction.  

He froze on the spot, eyes wide and fixed on her. Again, his mouth was open, his ears turned forward, in complete shock. But he didn't move, he didn't even _breathe._

She was touching him again. 

She hadn't dared to do so since her hand had brushed his months ago at the day of the planting ceremony, he'd not let her get close enough until now. He'd been on his guard against that spasm in his chest that occurred whenever she was near.

But it was there again, stronger then ever. 

Her fingers were warm and slightly rough from handling her bow, the fletching of her arrows. When he dared to take a breath, he found they smelt slightly of old incense, and that indefinable thing that sang _Kikyou, Kikyou, Kikyou, when she trespassed in the woods he'd claimed. _

No one had touched him so tenderly in his life. Her callused thumb caressed over his cheekbone in a way he was certain was intentional, and caused heat to flood his face. His heart clenched again and for a moment, he wasn't sure if he was looking into her eyes or into the night sky.

"Inu-Yasha?" her voice penetrated the haze, and he blinked his eyes, staring into her own. She was so close; he could smell that sweetness that was her, and it was stronger then the water, or the wood, or the fish getting cold on the bank. That subtle thing, incense and medicinal herbs, arrows and her skin, the fingers so rough compared to the soft curve of her face.

She said his name again, and this time his mind focused. She was touching him, and she shouldn't. He knew, at once, that the strange thing that made his heart clench, it was forbidden. 

"No," he said abruptly, jerking out of her reach. "I don't need your pity. Rain won't hurt me."

She drew her hand back, uncertain in the face of his odd reactions. 

Inu-Yasha rose from his crouch and stepped away from her, and he mustered up the best scowl he could give her.

"Go give your sister your time. I don't need it," he said. He rubbed his knuckles against his face, as if he might scrape away the feeling of her hand, the lingering scent that taunted his nose.

Her expression turned steely as his harsh dismissal. She rose and without preamble said, "I shall, then." 

She left him and his cold fish, the storm getting closer. She'd have to boat across the lake; there were two small boats for the lake, and she's probably used one to get across.

He found himself, despite his play at anger, hoping she made it across the lake alright.

But then he was determined to not care.

He gathered up his fish and headed away. The rocky hills were seeded with many caves and hiding places, and he'd claimed one overlooking the lake for his 'den' while he was living here. Far enough from the village that the Shikon was not a constant temptation, and close enough to the lake that he could boat across if the whim took him at any time. There he began to prepare his fish as he heard the storm rumble over head. The mouth was low, while there were natural vents for air above. He'd created a small nest for himself from the tanned hides of his prey, and while it was hardly luxury, it was home for now.

It the raging thunder rolled over head; water gathered at the mouth of the cave; it trickled down the vents in the roof and Inu-Yasha stayed warm with his cook fire and his fish, eating and trying to dispel the image of Kikyou, so angry, before she left.

Who cared if she was angry? She didn't have the right to be so temperamental! He didn't want her pity or her soft hand on his face...

He snorted softly, and then shook off his thought, his eyes narrowing as he tossed the stick he'd been roasting his fish on into the fire. 

"Damn woman!" he shouted at the empty air. "I don't need your damned pity!"

But it wasn't pity, some tiny voice. She doesn't look at you sadly.

His shouts died in his throat, and he slumped back against the furs he made his bed in. He folded his arms over the back of his head, and then found himself wondering if she made it across the lake in the storm.

It took at least half an hour to cross the lake. The storm had been raging that long, now, and had started right after she left. She'd been caught in it, certainly.

Something cold settled in the pit of Inu-Yasha's stomach, dispelling the contentment that had settled with his meal, and the anger that had followed.

Did she make it across? It would be simple enough to look; his cave overlooked the lake, he could look across the lake and see from one end to the other, so it was little effort to simply climb out of his warm furs and trot down to the damp opening of the cave and peer out, holding his hands over his eyes to shield them from the spray.

He saw one boat at the dock still; bobbing wildly in the wind churned water. Sweeping his gaze over the waters, he wondered how far Kikyou made it in these winds, with the water so wild.

Not very far, he surmised, when he saw the second boat capsized, midway to the other side.

Capsized.

Where was Kikyou?

That cold spread from his belly; it reached icy fingers through his veins, his guts, chilling the air in his lungs and making his extremities tremble as it sucked the heat right out of them. 

Before he knew it, he was running for the dock, leaving the safety of his cave for the wild storm raging outside. He wasn't even aware of the water as it pelted his skin or the sound of his already wet haori hitting the planks as he threw it off. He dove into the water, knowing instinctively the second boat would never carry him out on the waters in the raging of the tempest. 

Cold air suddenly burned in his lungs as he dove beneath the surface, where the water was less wild. He broke the surface only to breathe, golden eyes scanning the rain-beaten lake to find the overturned boat spinning in the wind. He dove beneath again and continued to swim. His clothing slowed him down, but his unnatural strength propelled him forward despite it. 

_Kikyou, Kikyou, Kikyou._

Something was ahead in the dark water; something red, dangling and still; white accompanied it. Her hakama, her kimono, sodden, but not sinking. He swam up under her body and then surfaced beside her.

Her head was tilted back, her face white, but she breathed. Luck had saved the miko of the Shikon no Tama, for her sleeve was caught upon the lip of the boat, keeping her head above water. But her brow was bloodied, and he was unsure how to move her.

Finally, he cut her sleeve free of the jagged lip of the boat, and took in one arm. He'd never swam anywhere with a weight, so this would certainly be different. He kept her under one arm, and then pushed the boat with them, swimming back the way he came blindly. Occasionally he had to stop, lift the boat and see that they were on the right track, but he kept going forward, making himself stay on course.

Kikyou's breathing was soft, even under the protective cap of the boat, and the cold water that had once offered relief now numbed his limbs. Still he worked, lungs burning, muscles screaming for relief.

When he finally saw the bank, he took a gulp of breath, covered Kikyou's mouth and nose with his hand, and dove beneath the water again, carrying her with him. A moment later, they surface and he plowed up the bank, carrying her with him, shifting her weight in his arms. 

He didn't grab his haori from the docks; he was too busy hefting the women in his arms up the hill toward the cave; the fire still burned, though it had gotten low, and the space was still warm. He laid her down on soft earth beneath the ceiling of stone and pondered her pale form.

For a moment, he didn't know what to do.

Then he realized he had to get her out of those wet clothes. He did not hesitate at first, opening her kimomo and carefully drawing her limbs free of it, but when he found her torso wrap, he didn't know what to make of it. Of course she'd wrap and bind her breasts, like any woman, but… 

He found where they tied, and propped her body in his arms; his shook from the cold and the wet, but he ignored it, removing it in haste. It was only once she was laid back down that he stopped and looked at her.

He'd never seen a woman bared.

He swallowed down the wild confusion that welled up within him at the sight of her nudity, and then continued in his work. If she froze in those wet clothes, she'd die. If she died, he'd die with her.

"Kikyou," he breathed, "Kikyou, Kikyou." Her name was called gently, through chattering teeth, and he finished with her clothes without another pause. The rest of her was just as fascinating and mysterious as the first, but there was a wrongness to seeing her inert body as anything other then damaged. He couldn't admire her beauty when she was nearly drowned and frozen to death in the cold waters of the lake. He wrung out her hair, and he hung up her clothing, but still, she was pale as death.

Once he had wrapped her body in the furs did he take care of his own, wet clothing. He stripped to bareness himself, hanging up his clothes, and stoked the fire   and then sat beside the bed of furs, taking Kikyou's arm between his hands and rubbing the flesh, hoping her blood would flow, her skin would warm. He saw color begin to return to her flesh, and took hope. 

He was still, however, freezing. Parts of him shriveled, the rest of him shook. Finally, he gave in. Kikyou would simply have to share her nakedness, warmth and the bed of furs with her savior. 

He thanked whatever gods watched over hanyou as he burrowed into the furs, drawing her slowly warming body against his, that she'd not brought her bow and arrows when she'd come to see him.

Then, with her nestled against his side, one arm around her, he allowed exhaustion to claim him, dragging him down beneath the dark, dreaming of miko suspended in the water, floating, floating...

He would have been content to float forever, had the warmth of his bed not begun to move. He woke to an elbow jabbing him in the side, the furs sliding down his chest as his companion in warmth began to rouse.

Kikyou groaned softly, her voice thick with drowsiness, and she tried to free her arms from the heavy layers. However, she was unprepared to see Inu-Yasha propping himself up besides her, as she gasped sharply, dark eyes focusing in on his.

"Inu-Yasha?"

"Shh. You're alright," he said as gently as he could. "I saw your boat capsized, and I went out after you." 

Her hands smoothed over the furs, listening despite her confusion. Then she realized that she felt skin against her own, it seemed, for she stilled when she felt Inu-Yasha's bare flesh against her arm.

"My clothes," she whispered numbly.

"They're drying with mine."

"With yours?" 

"Yeah."

Inu-Yasha watched as she focused in on him a few seconds more, her cheeks flushing suddenly, before she again sank into unconsciousness.

He blinked. 

That had not been an expected reaction, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been, he supposed. 

He stayed beside her a while longer, enjoying the feel of her body beside his. It was nice; just soft enough, and finally warm. Allowing himself to doze, he stayed near her for some time longer, as the steady drip of rain and the crackle of the fire kept them company. 

However, Inu-Yasha knew he couldn't lay idle forever; there was a fire to be tended, their clothes to be dried. While Kikyou still slept, he dragged himself free grudgingly. He staggered over to check his clothes; the fire-rat skins always dried quickly, and his other clothes seemed dry enough, so he dressed while he could. Kikyou's clothes were also nicely dried, but he allowed them to remain hanging till she woke. There was some fish left; he set that to cooking over the fire, and put more kindling on it, to keep it going.

The fish were done cooking when Kikyou moved next.

He rose from his seat as she stirred. Her eyes opened again, finding his.

"Inu-Yasha?" 

"Hey." He wondered if they'd have a repeat of the last time.

It seemed unlikely, as she grabbed her blankets and tugged them closer around her body.

"My clothes," she murmured, "are they dry?"

"They are now," Inu-Yasha replied, getting up to fetch them. She took them in hand gently, and sat up slowly, holding the fire-warmed cloth to her chest. 

"Can you turn around? Till I bid you otherwise?" 

He blinked, not understanding at first, but then shrugged, and went back to the fire, leaving his back to the miko. He heard the rustle of clothing, the shift of the furs. She was dressing herself, he gathered, but didn't want him to see. What was the point? He'd already seen her naked.

 "So you saved my life," she murmured. 

He wanted to see her face, read her expression. Her sound and scent said so much, but he wanted to see it, too. See the awe dawn in her eyes, the feeling of security settle there.

"Are you…" What was the word? "Decent?"

"Yes," she finally said, and rose as he turned too look at her. Her clothing was rumpled and stained from it's long soak and it's time near the fire, but she was still Kikyou.

"You can stay until the storm passes," Inu-Yasha offered slowly.

"Pity, Inu-Yasha?" Kikyou asked him, as she moved to join him by the fire. He felt his heart clench, again, as she came within reach of his hands.

She was warm and soft, he knew that now. And he wanted to feel that again, that security he had with her body there, warming against his, that sweet heat that sank into his bones and kept him warm even though his body was wet and tired.

"No," he said, after a moment's hesitation. "I don't pity you at all."

She smiled again, without sadness, and reached up to touch his cheek again, and he bent down under its touch. 

When she spoke again, he barely heard he words. Her voice was pure magic, he decided. Was it a holy spell she wove, to bind him with the gentle tones of her voice?

"Do you love me, Inu-Yasha?"

"I don't know what love is," he whispered in a rush, his hands finding her arms, as she stepped in nearer to him.

"Could you learn?" she asked. Her face eclipsed his view, its pale circle blotting out everything.

"Will you teach me?" he asked. Was that his voice, so small and timid?

"If you'll let me," she replied

His voice hitched in his chest, but then she was on her toes, her hand sliding from his cheek into his hair, his hands were sliding over her arms, to her back, holding her like he'd never held anyone before, clumsy and unsure. But she was guiding him to her, like he was as simply bent to her purpose as one of her arrows was cocked and drawn.

The kiss was small, sweet, and chaste, but it set his blood to racing. The clench around his heart tightened, and then shattered with the force of it's wild tattoo. What had been caged was released, and he didn't even realize it.

Forbidden, he realized, at the lake side. It was forbidden. 

Love.

Love was the forbidden thing.

For who, indeed, would love a hanyou?

He broke away with sudden fear, his eyes wild and bright. His heart wouldn't start pounding; he almost feared that it would break free of his ribs, shatter him here and now. With a startled thrust of his arms, he drove her back from him, gulping down air into his hungry lungs as he staggered backward.

"Inu-Yasha!" she cried out, reaching for him, but he wouldn't let her close. Another touch, another spell, he'd be undone, undone and what would be left of him?

"No!" he cried hoarsely. "No! You're… you're human! This is… this is some foul trick!" he denied her, watching it shatter her hope, the face that had just been the entirety of his world crumbling before his eyes. "A trick! You can't love me! _Hanyou cannot be loved by a… a __miko! No one loves hanyou! NO ONE!"_

He said nothing more, then, and turned to flee. His toe claws bit into the earth as his feet pushed him forward, turning and jumping down the ledge to the lower level of his cave. He bolted out into the rain, and ran blindly.

He didn't know where he was going. He just knew he had to get away. Away from that thing she was offering, that he couldn't have. 

How could a _miko teach a __hanyou to love? _

How could _anyone? _


	3. Autumn

**The Courtship of Kikyou**

**Chapter 3: Autumn**

If the summer could be called cruel, it seemed the fall had earned the title 'sadistic'.

Inu-Yasha was seriously considering abandoning the lure of the Shikon no Tama for greener pastures. The hunting had gone sour, he was getting entirely sick of lake fish, and raiding the village for food was right out. Not because of any pesky, human morals – he'd taken what he needed from more then one village and laughed at their inept defense of their homes and stores.

He wouldn't raid _this village because __she was in it. _

Having not set his eyes on the miko in a full lunar month had been a mixed blessing; he had seen his weakest night come and go, and still not even caught her scent in his woods. Ever since that night in his den, her hand on his cheek, her lips warming under his…

He'd run from her and she'd let him go. And he was fine with it being like that! Just peachy! That damned miko was nothing but trouble; this was probably some twisted version of playing with her prey, he decided. Eventually she'd go back to the back and forth, and they'd start up with the arrows and barbs once more, and everything would be normal again.

Then he could rob the village with the same disdain he'd had when robbing any other stupid human village.

Sitting atop the cliff that over-looked the road around the mountains, he watched as the villagers came down from the peaks with their harvest of lumber for the winter; they'd fell trees now for fire wood in the future, and they'd strengthen their miserable huts against the cold and the wet. He didn't care much for them, straining and sweating under the golden autumnal sun.

He didn't care about _any of those miserable humans._

His stomach growled.

Inu-Yasha found he did care about eating something. The sooner he ate, the better off he would be. 

Scrambling down the cliff, to the trees at the base, Inu-Yasha watched the villagers trail by in silence. They were unprotected out here, but he had no interest in them as prey. He certainly didn't want to dine on their flesh, and they had nothing edible on them, after working all day. 

Leaving them to their toil, he bounded back toward the woods; only a few heard the rustle of his departure, the snap of branches as he bound through them.

He only heard the arrow whiz past his side when it ripped through his fire-rat haori and pinned his sleeve to a tree trunk.

Exit stopped most ungracefully, Inu-Yasha found his arm was no longer coming forward, and the haori held his whole upper body to the tree. He felt his feet slide under him, and fell flat on his face among the roots and the dirt.

"The fuck!?" he spat out, along with a mouthful of grit. Sitting up, he found the miko's arrow imbedded in his sleeve and deep into the wood of the tree he'd been pinned too. He jerked at it once, and snarled as he heard his sleeve rip. "Fuck!" he exclaimed again. 

Hoping and praying that she wasn't coming for him now, he reached for the arrow. He grasped it solidly, and gave it a yank. It wiggled in the wood, but did not come free.

He gave it another pull, and a third. Each time, the arrowhead's bite on the wood was weakened, but he could hear her feet crunching the fallen leaves in the distance. 

He desperately did not want to see her.

Defeat sank in when he realized she was visible between the naked branches.

Kikyou lowered her bow at her side; there was no arrow in hand, so he did not expect a sealing anytime soon. She merely looked at him impassively, her silence infuriating.

"What's the big idea?" Inu-Yasha snarled. "I didn't come near your damned village!" 

"No, you didn't," she confirmed. "But you have not come to the village, or even across the lake, in the last month. I was curious as to why you had deigned to venture closer now, of all times."

"Better hunting on this side of the lake," Inu-Yasha answered tersely, though they both knew it was a lie. "I've picked the other side clean."

"I see." She said no more then that, and again the fury in him welled up.

"You've got your answer. Can I _go now?" He demanded sulkily, before reaching up to wiggle the arrow again, loosening it enough so that he could draw it forth. Snapping the shaft like a twig, he turned his back to her, refusing to give her benefit of seeing him afraid of her and proving his intent to leave._

Kikyou only watched the display dispassionately. "Why are you staying here?" she asked.

"W-what do you mean, 'why'?" he blurted in response. "What sort of stupid question is that?"

She waved a hand toward the barren wood. "This place holds nothing for you. You do not live among us, and you've yet to bully your way into a home among the villagers. You could easily do so, live by intimidation and fear, among humans. If you wished." She paused, and then her eyes flickered with some dark thought. "Unless you're still waiting for me to falter in the defense of the Shikon no Tama."

"And what if I was?" Inu-Yasha retorted. "What if that's what I was after?"

"Then I would continue to humiliate you," she said without inflection. "You are strong for a hanyou, but still a very poor excuse for a youkai."

Whirling on her, Inu-Yasha felt his cheeks burn at her words. "Poor excuse?!" His hands were already fisted, and for the first time, he actually felt like hurting this woman. "I'm a strong youkai!" 

"You are not youkai at all. You are hanyou," she reminded him with a firmness that betrayed a personal stake in his blood. "And I will not let you take the Shikon no Tama, just to have you burn away your human heart and become a monster."

Then and there, he swore he'd make her realize that she was never going to have him as a man. 

"Just because you want to be a weak, soft human doesn't mean I want the same thing!" he snarled. "You're pathetic! You have strength and you want to cast it away! Is that what you want to be? One of those mewling, wretched women in the villages who stomp their feet in the mud at planting time and squeeze babies out?"

"No," she admitted with a disturbing clarity. "But I don't want to be alone anymore, either."

"You can't have both," Inu-Yasha said. "You'll either be a miko or you'll just be a brood mare for your village men." He rose to his full height now, leaning over her to make sure she understood he was the same as the men of her village. "If you want to be a damn birthing sow, then, go for it! I'm sure a few men will be pleased that the woman that defends them will fall on her back like a any other dirty bitch!"

He stopped there for a moment, just to catch his breath -- but the crack of her hand across his cheek definitely put him into stunned silence.

In all their time together, she'd never really harmed him. Each arrow that had flown had never done anything more then pierce his clothing. Her aim was simply that good, her precision that fine.

But the stinging that spread across his cheek with the welt her hand left behind, that hurt. It was a small thing, but it hurt.

Hand going to his cheek, he stared at her in complete bewilderment. She'd struck him. Struck him for being honest. If she wanted to be human, it meant being weak and dirty. It was the same in every village, he saw it in each place he'd ever traveled too. Weak and dirty.

Weak in a way he'd never stand to be.

"I see," he finally said, drawing away. "You just want a dream. You don't want the truth."

"I thought wanted you," she clarified, her voice preternaturally calm in the way only miko and scorned women could manage. "I can see, however, that you are correct. What I thought I saw in a moment of weakness does not exist."

"Not my fault," Inu-Yasha snarled. "I never asked for you to cling to me!"

"And I'm telling you," she said, "that you have till the count of five to go back to your side of the lake."  Her bow was lifted, and her arrow drawn. She nocked it as he watched; leveling the shaft's head at his chest. 

So short a distance, the arrow would easily go through him. 

"One," Kikyou began quietly.

He backed up two steps. 

"Two," her arm did not tremble.

He turned.

"Three." The string quivered tautly.

He gave in and ran.

The count was lost to the whistling wind, as he sped through the branches, counting on taking to the trees to hopefully block the arrow if she was serious about loosing it after him.

It was only when he was poling one of the boats across the lake that he realized that perhaps Kikyou had a point. There was nothing here for him, until he could become strong enough to best her, and win the Shikon no Tama...

A few months; he could return in the winter when the humans – their miko included – were weak and tired, starving and poor. Then he could easily capture his prize… and forget the miko of the Shikon no Tama.

Once the boat had been secured to the dock, he sprinted up to his cave, ducking within it's shadows to look about, his eyes adjusting to the dim light slowly.,

He'd made a good enough home here, he thought. It was warm. There was plentiful food during the summer, and if he had been smart, he might've thought to store for the coming cold months. But things would only get slimmer and slimmer, as the snow came and covered the ground. Competing with the village hunters would also be an annoyance; they would be a drain on his food supply, as they hunted in great numbers to feed their wives and their whelps.

But he liked it here. His bed was warm, his cave secure. It was the closest thing he'd had to a home in many years. 

Putting a hand to the stone walls, he walked around the cave, up to the ledge where he had his bed, his paltry stores, and his fire pit. Heaving a sigh, he collapsed among the furs, wiggling under them as if they might protect him from the memories as well as the cold.

_What I thought I saw in a moment of weakness does not exist. _

What had she been looking for? 

_You and I are the same, Inu-Yasha. You too fight your humanity. That… is why I have not been able to kill you._

It had started then, he realized; in the earliest spring, when the grass was still a short carpet on the hill instead of up to his chest as it was now; he could still see her clearly, on the hill, her bow at her side.

Even then, she had been ready incase he turned on her. But she'd called to him anyway, despite the danger. So close, she knew he could have a slim chance of sliding his claws through her flesh before her arrow was nocked and drawn.

Burying his face in the heavy coverlet of fur, he tried not to think of her eyes, so dark and alone, at that moment… Or needy and wanting, in his arms, in this cave.

_What I thought I saw…_

"It isn't real," muttering darkly, he used those words as a shield against her eyes. "It isn't. I'm not some village man you can woo like that! I'm not!" 

_…in a moment of weakness..._

"You are weak!" he told her—or perhaps himself—in the dark.

_…does not exist._

He did not exist.

The realization stuck him, as he tangled his limbs in his furs, shouting his denials to empty air. If he didn't exist to her, who knew where he was? Did anyone know that he was alive? Did it matter if he lived or breathed?

Who that lived, cared for the hanyou Inu-Yasha? 

It was a quandary he was not used to dealing with; such heavy thoughts were not his forte, so he certainly could divine no answer in the cracks and fungus on the cave ceiling, as he thought on those dark words.

If what she saw – him! – did not exist to her, anymore…

What was he now, anyway?

Is that why she had told him to leave? So she would not have even the slightest evidence of his existence? Of his refusal, of her shame? 

Was she erasing that humanity she had reached for in that 'moment of weakness'?

His brows furrowed, and he quelled the hurt before it began. 

"Fine!" he shouted to the cave walls. "Fine! I won't exist, then! I don't need you! I don't need you at all! You're nothing! Nothing but a damned miko!"

He leapt from the bed, all action! He didn't really have anything to gather now, leaving the furs where they lay. He filled in the fire pit he'd dug, and bounded down from the ledge, and didn't stop there.  He bounded out into the cave mouth and headed back to the docks, untying the boat and poling across the water he'd just crossed but half an hour ago.

He wouldn't stay here, a ghost of some miko's weak, human desires! He would remind the world that he was here! He would rot in this stupid wood, outside that pitiful village! 

He would never come back, he promised. 

_Never._


	4. Winter

**The Courtship of Kikyou**

**A tale of the Love That Was**

**_Amanda Lever_**

**Chapter 4: Winter**

As she closed yet another man's eyes, Kikyou wondered why this winter had become so fierce. The autumn had been mild enough, she reflected. But the winter had been cruel, indeed, bringing with it plague wind and disease. 

The hardworking menfolk, outside in the chill and the cold, has been infected first. They took the illness home to their wives and children, who fell prey to the disease even more quickly. The disease was nigh unto an epidemic, but nothing could be done. Settled so close to the mountains, the small village had protection, but it also had hard days travel to the nearest city. The messenger they had sent never returned.

"Onee-sama?" 

Kikyou lifted her head at her sister's call, and saw Kaede waving her small hand as she lead in yet another woman. This one bore her babe in her arms, small and weak. She'd waited too long to come for aid, that much Kikyou could tell by the girlchild's color and breathing. The babe would not live out the week. But the miko rose, despite the futility of giving care, and moved to take the young child from the weeping, miserable mother. 

"I will see to her," Kikyou said quietly, ignoring the fractured sobs of gratitude that followed her to one of the mats, where she prepared to make the girl's passing as comfortable and easy as she could.

Others helped her; none with priestesses, but some of the unmarried young women had come up to aid in the work as best they could; the men could not be spared, and the older women joined their husbands and fathers in hard winter work. The disease quickly sapped the strength of the infected, and so any strong back or set of steady hands was put to use these days.

Kikyou's hands were filled with balm against suffering, peace before death, and last rites. But they were just as needed as any other hands.

As the night drew on, no others came to her door. Once the sun had set, the shrine was shuttered against the night, candles lit for the crying children. The flickering lights in the dark were a small comfort to the young, and the weak men and women slept regardless of night or day.

Drawing into the chambers she shared with Kaede, she washed her hands thoroughly, and then donned the heaviest cloak and a broad hat to shield her from the wind and snow.

Graves needed digging.

Kaede watched her sister through it all, one action as rote as the next She knew her sister felt for these people, but it was hard to watch. Kikyou moved so mechanically from one task to the next that it was almost as if she could not spare too much time to care. 

Kaede knew better.

She knew her sister cried when the wind whipped her face, digging alone in the night, when no one saw her work endlessly, till she returned to collapse onto her thin mat and claim the few hours of sleep she could.

She stoked the brazier and waited. Kikyou's grief was shared only with the cold earth and Kaede could not bring herself to intrude. Even as the shovel rose and fell, chopping up hard earth so it could be tossed aside, Kaede listened and huddled around the warmth of their fire, keeping the room warm so that Kikyou would have that comfort, at least, when she came in from the chill.

One grave was dug a night. More then one body, however, awaited burial. Kept in white shrouds, buried as soon as one was able, the stink of the dead was lost to the cold of one of the shrine's adjoining rooms. There they gave last rites, allowed family to mourn, and then one by one, moved the bodies by night.

For every one they moved, another replaced it.

Kaede waited and watched the brazier crackle, until hours had passed, and the night was pitch and the sky almost moonless. A sliver of silver shown in the sky, offering scant light for grim work, waning as the evenings turned. In three days, it would be the first new moon, the new month.

Kiykou returned with the dark at her back and in her eyes. She did not smile for her sister, but Kaede did not expect it. She merely waited for Kikyou to rinse her hands and wrap them with poultice, so that her raw, roughened palms would heal. 

The candles were blown out, and the sisters slept.

The next morning found new a new grave filled; as Kikyou buried the dead, she thought of Inu-Yasha. It was hard not to; in every snow-laden bough, in every streak of blood, she saw his colors. His youki was never felt, but she saw him everywhere.

She found herself missing him. He was crude, naïve, and not even human...

...But there was no denying that there was something she'd felt for him, something that she'd never really experienced before; a warmth that was fading with winter's cruelty and his absence.

But it was not the only fading she had to be concerned with. The village population was rapidly declining, and she was faced with painful questions.

"Will there be more death?"

"Will my husband live?"

"Will you save us, Kikyou-sama?"

Deep inside, she doubted. Had she weakened so much that she could not fight famine or hunger? That disease would kill her village, leaving her alone.

Work went on, and the days dragged by. The new moon came and went, only to wax as the cycle of the heavens went forward. Kikyou tended the sick, accumulated bodies, till no more able bodied men could be spared to dig graves. Left with the thankless task herself, she covered herself and began to work the earth.

The hoe's bite was as rhythmic as her heart beat; her blood pulsed with each up swing, each downward drop; the rituals of the dead, even in the simplicity of simple burial, permeated her life. Shinto was the celebration of life; the way of the Kami celebrated the divinity of all things. Death was part of life, yes, but it was an ending, and one did not celebrate an ending unless there was a tangible renewal at the end. 

One did not celebrate loss.

_Inu-Yasha, _she thought as she dug, _are you alive? Does your heart still beat? Have you found food and shelter, somewhere kinder?_

_Do you still hate yourself?_

Her thought betrayed her; the rhythm was lost, and the pick struck a rock; her cold-numbed hands were jarred painfully; when she lost her grip on the tool's haft, she only then realized she'd worked her palms bloody. A delicate frown, subdued as the miko herself, touched her lips.

She retrieved the hoe, and left the last grave incomplete.

_I should put him far from my thoughts. He is lost to me. What I hoped to see was nothing, an  illusion._

The warmth of the shrine was a comfort; Kaede worked among the sick just as her sister did, and only glanced up when she heard the hiss of winter wind as the door opened. "Onee-sama?"

"Bandages please, Kaede."

Kaede finished wiping the brow of the patient she was tending, and then rose to do as Kikyou bid. She would make a fine priestess, Kikyou mused as she watched her. Dedicated, almost as solemn as her sister, and with the same tenacity of spirit that Kikyou was known for. Her power was a softer, gentler thing, though.

The Shikon no Tama would not be passed on to her, Kikyou was certain. Another successor would have be found…

…or the gem, somehow, destroyed or purified.

But she put these thoughts away as Kaede tended her hands gently. The look was in her eyes again; _You__ work too hard. But Kikyou and Kaede both knew that the miko could not rest, could not turn away from her duty._

So it was that her wounds were tended, and she went on to lighter duties, before the sisters collapsed to their mats and slept deeply.

By dawn, all the graves had been dug by hands unknown. 

Kikyou had found them after rising, her brows furrowing as she stared down at the neat, empty holes, one for each body currently waiting for internment in the shrine. The hoe was back in the store house, and the mounds of cold, hard earth were well worked so that it would be easily pushed back over the dead.

Burials and rites were performed, and Kikyou thought little of it. The dead were buried. Her shrine was full of the sick. She still had work to do.

Three days after the burials happened, she worked the earth again to bury the dead. Again, she left the work unfinished. Again, the villagers were buried.

This time, she inquired among the village men, to find out the kind soul and thank them properly. None could take credit for the deed; none claimed the strength to break the earth so often and so well.

And while her face was placid and calm, she felt her heart clench with a secret, forbidden hope.

_Did he come back?_

The snow swallowed tracks like the sick gulped down cool water. There was no way to track a youkai – or a hanyou – in this weather. But she would try.

Leaving Kaede with the sick, she gathered her arrows and bow and headed out upon the lake. It was slow poling; it was frozen in spots, slats of jagged ice floes floating in the water, making the trek difficult. But all the same, she went back to the place she had not been in some months.

Inu-Yasha's den; it was as she remembered it, but left uncared for it had fallen to rot; the furs that had once warmed her soaked and chilled body – _No, the furs were merely a cover; it was Inu-Yasha's own body that gave her heat and revived her – _now gave shelter to vermin that scattered when she prodded the pile with her bow.

He'd left in a rush, and he'd left all the affect he'd collected here. Small pieces of crudely shaped wood made to horses and animals of the forest given shape were going soft and rotting from the damp, and a dirty child's ball was hidden away in a nook.

_Did you play, once, Inu-Yasha? Before you hunted stag in the wood, caught fish in the lake? _

Handling the grubby ball, she suddenly felt guilty for intruding here. She had driven him from this haven, and he had left everything behind.

She had been needlessly cruel.

Putting the ball back in its niche, she quickly left the cavern behind, and headed for her boat once more. 

But even as she neared the edge of the lake, something resonated with her spirit; a sense of youki in the distance. Had Inu-Yasha come back, but chosen a new den? The mountains were riddled with caves he could use, if he saw fit.

She found herself walking toward the mountains, the crags jagged before her. It was stronger here, but the winds grew fiercer. The youki grew stronger.

It was not Inu-Yasha in these peaks. There was too much power here, not tinged with the repressed humanity that ran in the hanyou's veins. This was a real youkai, a trueblooded, purebred spirit.

And it was not happy to see her.

She did not knock her bow; the winds raged too strong here – whether by sorcery or simple weather she could not tell. All the same, she went headed into the crags, finding the silvery trails of power in the ether; the youki was strong, but it tore at her senses, lashing her third eye like a whip.

She pressed forward. She'd come looking for the hanyou, and she had found a lurking monster. Duty demanded its death.

She followed the roar of the wind; it seemed to come forth from a dark cave set beneath an overhand. 

On the wind, she heard voices.

She recognized them. A mother. A child. A farmer. Her hands clenched. Was this a demon of plague? Was it killing the villagers? Or was this some trick of the wind? Was it guilt made manifest?

It didn't matter. Whatever it was within these caves, it was not a good thing.

Within the mouth of the cave, the wind ebbed to merely a breeze, its cool fingers tugging at her sleeves. Here, she drew an arrow and knocked her bow, advancing into the dark. She could sense the thing in the distance – but as she came into a deep cavern, she didn't need to sense it anymore.

She could see it.

It was a woman, lovely like an ice sculpture and likely just as cold. She plucked the strings of a koto harp, creating terrible music. It was the sounds of pain and suffering, a sigh, a moan, a cry, each in the voice of one of her villagers. So entranced was she with her own feverish playing that she did not look up.

Kikyou drew the arrow, and took aim.

It screamed through the windblown cavern and struck true; the koto shattered, and the woman was tossed aside by the force of the arrow's impact, holy energy sizzling in the remains of the infernal instrument.

"Bitch!" she shrieked as she spied Kikyou on at the mouth of her cavern. "You'll pay for that!"

Kikyou said nothing as she drew another arrow, even as the youkai advanced. This icy devil was no match for her; the youki she had felt was cut to a quarter; her power had lain in the enchanted music that had carried plague on the winds to her village. 

She let the arrow fly; the youkai attempted to dodge aside, only to be struck in the shoulder. She was blasted backward by the force of the arrow – and pinned to the rocky, cavern wall. 

Screeching in pain, she writhed, tugging on the arrow she could not pull free. Kikyou let her, as the priestess came forward to investigate her koto.

"You were feeding upon the souls. You brought them to you on the wind, so I could not sense you close to the village."

"It should have been perfect!" the woman screeched. "Perfect! I could have grown fat on the souls of the dead all winter and then slaughtered you before it was spring! I could have had the Shikon no Tama!"

Kikyou said nothing. She merely knelt, and touched the strings of the koto, notcing the fine, white filament… the strange texture.

"This is hair," Kikyou said, frowning slightly. 

"A soul full of longing and pain is needed to string the Koto no Gentou!" the ice woman said, still working the arrow futilely 

"Where did it come from?" Kikyou asked, even as she rose. She drew another arrow. "Tell me."

"A hanyou, full of loneliness!" The youkai spat. "It was easily plucked, once he was frozen by the winters to the north of here!"

Kikyou nodded quietly, and then lifted her bow, took aim – ignoring the screams and epithets of the youkai, she loosed an arrow for her heart. Its flight was true, pierced the demon's heart, sealing her in the dark.

She went back to the koto, and gathered the white hairs quietly, one after the other, and then tucked them into a hidden pocket with the sleeves of her kimono. Leaving the cave behind, she did not look back once on the broken, ruined vassal of power, or the yuki-onna she left, breast pieced by an arrow shaft.

It was late when she finally made her way out of the mountains, and bitterly cold. But still she pressed on toward the lake and the den near it. It was to the cave she went first, to lay the hairs among the furs; if this was truly what remained of Inu-Yasha, she would rather it be laid to rest here, where she had woken warm and safe in his arms for the first and likely only time.

But she did not linger; her tired bones wanted a soft pallet and a warm temple, so it was that she poled across the lake, her eyes set ahead on the village in the distance; she could make it out once they were half-way across; the tiny lights flickering and dancing in the distance.

Finally reaching the opposite shore, she made her way quickly through the fields toward the village, her geta clacking over the hard ground. The village was empty; everyone was safe in their beds, unaware that now no more children would fall sick to demon-borne plague, hate-filled soul-stealing thwarted for now.

But as she headed up the stairs, she paused; there was a sound behind the temple, in the graveyard. She listened, then, to the rhythmic rise and fall of a shovel, the crack of cold ground under strength, she realized, could not belong to any human.

Her heart clenched, but she headed quietly around the temple, cloaking her presence with silence and sorcery.

The shovel was lifted high; the hands that held it were large and strong, and the arms, bared in the motion, were well muscled. She had not by any stretch of the imagination been able to memorize their contours in their short time together, but regardless, the warmth of them, had they been around her, would have been familiar to Kikyou.

They were Inu-Yasha's arms; rightly attached to Inu-Yasha's body. Inu-Yasha's living, breathing, grave-digging body. 

She blinked mutely at him for a moment, trying to figure out what she could say now; what words could be a suitable greeting, when just moments ago, she'd been contemplating an eternal loss.

He noticed her, finally, as the shovel was driven into the dirt. He turned around, then, his ears perking, pink shells focusing on the sounds she had purposefully muffled. 

"Kikyou," he said her name slowly, as if uncertain.

"Inu-Yasha," she said with far more clarity of thought, though she could not keep the surprise from her face. "It is good to see you"

"Is it?" Inu-Yasha asked, with a soft snort. "Keh. You're getting soft," he said, "If you didn't realize I was here all this time."

"Maybe I have," Kikyou agreed. The yuki-onna's presence certainly indicated a lapse in her guardianship, an unforgivable one. But guilt and recrimination did her no good; Inu-Yasha was standing here, looking at her with his pale, inscrutable eyes. 

"Why did you dig the graves?" she finally asked.

"Why not?" he asked in return. 

"They were nothing to you."

"They still are. But you had bigger things to worry about."

"The yuki-onna?"

"You caught on a little late, Kikyou," he smirked, then, smug as hell. "I'm disappointed."

"It was a… dereliction in my duty. It won't happen again."

"What happened to all that talk?" he finally asked, "About not being human? You're letting your guard down, if you're letting a snow spirit like that bitch get by you."

"And you? Your hair became the strings of her koto," Kikyou shot back, though gently.

Inu-Yasha rubbed at his scalp, and then shrugged. "It was a lucky cut," was all he could say. "But she didn't take my head, now did she?"

"She didn't need it," Kikyou replied. But she bit her tongue, demanding it cease in this useless back and forth. He was here, he was alive. That was important! Not the conflict between man, youkai, and hanyou. 

"I have thought of you," she said slowly. "But I also thought you might not return."

"I'm here now, aren't I?" he snapped, but then fell silent. "I'm not your damn man, though. I just like this land. Good hunting, good weather when there's no snow-bitch mucking it up, and a good den." 

He did not speak of the Shikon no Tama, and its absence brought hope to Kikyou's heart.

"You are welcome to stay," Kikyou finally said. "I would be… glad if you did."

He blinked at her, before he looked away, reaching to unbind his sleeves so they could fall and cover his bare arms. "You should go get where it's warm," he finally said. "Since there won't be anymore corpses that should be your last damn grave." He looked down the shallow pit he'd dug; one for a child, she was certain.  

"Thank you," she said again. 

"It wasn't for you," Inu-Yasha snapped. "I just couldn't stand the stink of death wafting off the fuckin' village."

She smiled, despite his harshness. He had not changed. He hadn't changed at all. 

She adored him for it.

"I'll see to Kaede and those who still suffer," she said, beginning to turn. "And I will… see you again?"

"Maybe," Inu-Yasha said. "I did a pretty good job of hiding out, huh?" His face split into a wide grin. "You had no idea I was here, did you? Admit it!" 

Kikyou only gave him a slight smile; far be it from her to stroke the hanyou's ego. Turning in silence, she left him to wonder, listening to him begin to stutter and stammer as she turned away, demanding an answer then and there. 

She'd see him again. He was caught now, as much as she was, by the stands of fate. Still, she could not help but wonder, as she looked into the shrine, felt the power of the shikon no tama radiating from its post…

…what future did a woman who could not be human and a hanyou who could not be a man have together, anyway?


End file.
